


you brought music back into the house

by professortennant



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M, Sound of Music AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-06-04 23:56:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15157991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/professortennant/pseuds/professortennant
Summary: Sam realizes that she’s made a mistake somewhere along the way, turned left when she should have turned right. Her children look at her with such hungry affection, desperate for their mother’s touch and attention, but it feels like a forcefield is between them and she doesn’t know how to get to the other side. Sound of Music-inspired AU.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NiceHatGeorgia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NiceHatGeorgia/gifts).



Colonel Samantha Carter doesn’t know her own children--not anymore. They are a mystery to her, a part of a life from  _before._ Before Joe’s death, before her father left for a war and never returned, before when her heart still beat without creaking.

And then Jack O’Neill shows up in their lives: boisterous and child-like himself, all easy smiles and quick wit. She narrows her eyes at him, sizes him up on the first day when he refuses to obey her commands, mocking her military rigor with lazy salutes and a drawling  _Yes ma’am, Colonel, ma’am._

Except her children--the children who have soaked in their own grief and banded together without her, who have wreaked havoc upon her house and the nannies before Jack--are thriving under his care. 

For the first time in years, laughter and singing-- _singing_ \--fills the house when she comes home from work, the entryway echoing with Teal’c’s booming, deepening laughter (when did he become a man with a man’s voice?) and Jonas’ delighted peals, his tiny arms wrapped around Jack’s neck and begging for more stories. Vala, Daniel, Janet, Cameron, and Walter are gathered round Jack’s feet, following along with the story of a tiny alien named Thor who’s just looking for a place to belong in the world. Sam supposes her children find a bit of themselves in Thor’s story, they, too, are searching for a place in the world.

Her children--who refuse to do their summer homework and who defy her at every turn--now gather around Jack at the large dining room, papers and books strewn about, working diligently and laughing easily when Jack rewards their hard work with cookies and a ruffle of their hair. Jack shows them how to work through their mathematics workbook and how to read through their readings quickly and critically.

(Sam works very hard to ignore how fetching Jack O’Neill looks in a frilly apron, flour coating the curve of his cheek, and his eyes bright and warm.)

Her children--who long ago stopped reaching out to her for hugs and affection--now soak it all up from Jack. Her children find purchase on his hip, wrap themselves around his chest and legs and stomach, giggling happily. She comes home one night and finds them all dog-piled together in front of the fire, a board game on the floor, sleeping soundly--exhausted from the day’s fun and lulled to sleep by the warmth of the fire and the knowledge that in Jack’s care they are safe.

Sam realizes that she’s made a mistake somewhere along the way, turned left when she should have turned right. Her children look at her with such hungry affection, desperate for their mother’s touch and attention, but it feels like a forcefield is between them and she doesn’t know  _how_  to get to the other side. She wants to scream at them  _Go with Jack, go before it’s too late._

But the children aren’t the only one’s looking at her with hungry affection and she can’t deny that she feels warmth sparking and spreading through her every time Jack looks at her, her children on his hip and in his care. The itch to leave her afternoon meetings and come running home to him and her children is growing daily.

He finds her in the gazebo on the grounds, face buried in her hands and feeling the dam she had so carefully built up in her heart breaking and overflowing with regrets and emotion. 

“You know,” his voice, deep and musical, carries into the night air. “I thought I just might find you here.”

He sits next to her, shoulders brushing hers, his hip pressed to hers. She smiles softly at the contact--he never had much respect for personal boundaries anyway.

“And why would you find me here?” she asks, sniffling and trying to pull herself together. Her military training kicks in and she sits a little straighter, her shoulders going tense and tight. Jack knocks her shoulders right back out of the military posture and grins unapologetically. 

“Oh, a little Daniel Bird told me you come here when you need to get away.” He pauses and looks out over the grounds, at the moonlight bouncing off the lake and the wind rustling through the long grass. He clears his throat and faces her, catching her eye. “He’s observant. Daniel, I mean. He notices just about everyone and everything.”

Sam stays silent. She didn’t know that about Daniel.

“And Cam, well, Cam’s just a boy but he wants to be a man.” 

He drops these grains of insight and she eats them up greedily, closing her eyes against the surprising rush of pain. She truly doesn’t know her children anymore.

“Stop,” she says, voice hoarse. “I don’t want to hear anymore.”

“I think you’ve got to, Colonel.” His voice is gentle but firm. He’s changed so much in their house and this is the last push between her children and herself; the last temptation to bring her broken family back together with Jack O’Neill as the glue. 

She turns teary eyes on him, teeth sunk into her bottom lip. “I don’t--” She stops and Jack reaches over and takes her hand, encouraging. “I don’t know my own children.”

And then it’s like a dam bursting. The tears come hot and heavy--tears for lost years, tears for all the hurt and missed hugs and kisses and for the silence she instilled in the house to keep the memories at bay.

Jack wraps an easy arm around her shoulders and lets her cry against him. Her hands curl into the front of his loose cotton shirt and it feels  _so good_  to be held again. She inhales and the scent of him--spice and pine and fresh air--is a comfort. 

“Kids are easy,” he says and his words rumble and reverberate through his chest against her ear. “They don’t need anything fancy. They just need you, Colonel.”

She pulls away and wipes her her eyes and nose on the back of her hand. “Just like that?” she asks, voice soft and timid.

"Just like that.” He gestures with a thumb over his shoulder and smiles softly at her, gentle and encouraging. “I told the kiddos to get ready for bed. Would you like to put them to bed?”

She thinks about wrapping her children in thick blankets and smoothing their hair and pressing kisses to their foreheads and murmuring her love into their skin. She wants it desperately. 

She takes his hand and squeezes it. “ _Thank you.”_

He holds her hand tighter, sweeps his thumb over the pulse in her wrist and there’s that heat--that tension--she felt when they danced at the military welcoming party a few weeks ago. She wanted to sway forward back into his arms, wanted him to walk her back to the house, wanted him to be with her while she tucked the children in, wanted to drag him into her bed and beg him to not leave. The words that he made them a family, that he  _belonged_  with them stuck in her throat. 

Not now, not yet, but soon. 

She had a family to put together first.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wrapping an around around her waist, feeling the gentle curve of her hip against his palm, he pulled her closer and brought his lips to her ear. “Ready?”
> 
> “Get moving, flyboy.”
> 
> The music from the party filtered out into the garden as they danced, providing background to their movements. She moved with grace, her heels clicking softly against the stone and providing a tempo to their dance steps. 
> 
> Jack led them in a steady pattern of steps, flashing back to his own military days of old fashioned balls and waltzes. He grinned and pulled her closer when he heard Carter keeping count under her breath in a sing-song voice. “One, two, three, one two, three…”
> 
> “I thought all Colonels knew how to waltz. Don’t they teach it at the Academy anymore?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a tumblr prompt (which btw i'm over on tumblr @ professortennant.tumblr.com) inspired this extra scene and thought i'd add on here. if you want to see more in this 'verse, hit me with prompts and i'll fill it. i probably won't write a fully-fledged fic, but i'm happy to dabble in the universe :)

Jack grinned at the children spread out on the terrace, using broken bits of sticks as canes, laughing and giggling as they danced across the stones of the back terrace, tipping an imaginary hat to the crowd of Naval, Air Force, and Arm veterans inside the large Carter estate. 

The annual Veteran’s Ball was underway and he and the children had been relegated to the back garden, out of sight. He adjusted Jonas on his hip, rubbing the back of his index finger alongside his soft, chubby cheek. “Don’t fall asleep yet, little one,” he said gently. Jonas blinked blearily up at him, frowning for a moment, before cuddling back into his shoulder. 

Jack felt a tap on his arm and he looked down to see Daniel peering up at him, holding out the larger stick for Jack to take. “Dance with us?”

For a moment, Jack hesitated, looking down at the sleeping toddler in his arms. And then Teal’c was at his side, quietly taking his younger brother into his care. “Show us how it is done, O’Neill,” the teen intoned, nodding his head. 

The rest of the children gathered round, backs to the entryway to the house, the party and officers forgotten at the prospect of Jack putting on a show for them. Jack sighed and stepped into the middle of the terrace, putting on a face of despair. “I don’t know, munchkins…I just don’t think I have it anymore.”

The kids looked concerned at the tone of his voice and he knew he couldn’t hold out on them anymore. With a dramatic twirl of his cane that had the children cheering, Jack began an approximation of tap dancing, rolling and swinging his cane between his fingers, tossing it up in the air and catching it behind his back. 

He bowed dramatically to the sound of his favorite children’s laughter and clapping. He handed his cane off to Cam who was already doing his best to impersonate the moves he’d just seen Jack do. He ruffled the boys hair and looked down fondly at him–the boy wanted to badly to be like Jack. 

“What about  _that_  kind of dancing, Jack?” Vala asked, bubblegum popping and smacking in her mouth and thumb jutting over her shoulder towards the crowd of waltzing officers. 

Jack hesitated, hand running through his hair. “Gah, Vala, I haven’t danced like an overstuffed peacock since I was–”

From the side of the garden a new voice joined the Carter family and their nanny. “What Jack  _meant_  to say was that he’d love to show you, Vala.”

Jack stared at Colonel Carter, her dress blues sharp and cutting a hell of a figure against the bright lights of the party behind her. Her makeup was light but dark eyeliner smudged against her waterline, bringing out the blues of her eyes. Her medals and ribbons gleamed in the light and he had to admit he was impressed at the accolades. 

He grinned at her, “Oh, yes.  _That’s_  what I meant. C’mon,” he added to Vala, outstretching his hand. She reached to take it before a gleam came across her eyes and she looked between her mother and Jack. Her hand fell to her side and she put on a falsely sweet voice. 

“Why don’t you and mother show us, Jack?”

Jack swallowed hard and turned sharply to Colonel Carter, eyebrows raised.  _She’s your daughter_ , he seemed to say. 

Carter grinned at him, shrugging slightly, a pink blush staining her cheeks. He liked the way her skin looked in this light–liked it maybe a little too much. He shrugged and offered her his hand. 

“Care to dance, Colonel?” 

His voice was low and husky, soft and inviting. The force of how much he longed for her hand in his startled him and he quelled the feeling, smiling softly at her. 

She hesitated for just a moment before slipping her hand into his, allowing him to lead her out into the middle of the stone terrace. He winked over her shoulder at the kids who huddled together, eagerly watching the dance and movements of their mother and caretaker. 

“Take notes, kiddos.”

They giggled at his exaggerated eyebrow waggle and, to his surprise, so did Colonel Carter. She turned in his arms and squeezed his hand lightly. “I’m ready to take notes, too, Jack,” she murmured quietly, glancing up at him. 

His mouth went dry and his mind reeled. Was she  _flirting_  with him? 

Wrapping an around around her waist, feeling the gentle curve of her hip against his palm, he pulled her closer and brought his lips to her ear. “Ready?”

“Get moving, flyboy.”

The music from the party filtered out into the garden as they danced, providing background to their movements. She moved with grace, her heels clicking softly against the stone and providing a tempo to their dance steps. 

Jack led them in a steady pattern of steps, flashing back to his own military days of old fashioned balls and waltzes. He grinned and pulled her closer when he heard Carter keeping count under her breath in a sing-song voice. “One, two, three, one two, three…”

“I thought all Colonels knew how to waltz. Don’t they teach it at the Academy anymore?”

Sam scoffed, her breath warm and condensing on the skin of his neck. He shivered and pulled her even closer, their bodies brushing together with each step. Her hand in his tightened momentarily as her medals caught on the lapel of his jacket and then she relaxed, turning her head and nose brushing against the cut of his jaw. 

“I think they got rid of waltzing sometime after World War I,” she murmured softly, turning mischievous eyes onto his. “So, just after you graduated, I suspect.”

He barked out a laugh. “Leave an old man alone, Carter.”

The hand on his shoulder curled into the fabric of his jacket, shifting alongside his shoulder and brushing along his neck. She turned thoughtful, her movements slowing as they stopped dancing a traditional waltz and instead opting for a gentle sway around the stones. 

“Not so old,” she said softly, eyes meeting his before dropping briefly to his mouth, the tip of her tongue wetting her lips. He swallowed hard, suddenly acutely aware of how beautiful the woman in his arms was, how he had stopped listening to the music a long time ago, how everything had faded into the background–become soft and blurry, leaving only Sam behind, sharp and clear and perfect. 

“Sam,” he said softly, the taste of her given name filling his mouth. 

They stopped moving altogether, the moment hanging between them, eyes flicking down to the other’s mouth. 

A dark-haired teenager popped up beside them, startling them from the moment. “Uh, hello? Mom? Jack?” Vala waved a hand between their faces, grinning slyly. “The music stopped like, a few minutes ago.”

Jack stepped back from the Colonel, straightening his jacket and running a hand through his hair nervously. He hadn’t blushed since he was eight years old, but here he was: blushing at the thought of Samantha Carter pressed into his arms, mouth on his and–

“You should get back to the party,” he said to the Colonel, eyes darting away from her. “I’ll get the kiddos ready for bed.” He forced a smile up at her, willing the awkwardness, the heat and tension, to dissipate. 

He had a good thing going here–a family of sorts and a group of children who loved him, who needed him. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he had purpose, had a home. 

The Colonel stared at him, searching for something in his face. Whatever it was she was looking for, she must have found because she smiled softly and nodded, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of her children’s heads. 

“I”ll see you tomorrow,” she said to Jack, turning sharply on her heel and rejoining the festivities inside her estate. 

He watched her go, eyes drifting to her rear and admiring its shapeliness for a moment, before a small smile stretched out over his mouth.  _See you tomorrow_  sounded like a hell of a promise, a promise of a tomorrow and a next day and a next day…

Maybe he’d dance with her again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am 100% aware i am bouncing around in timeline and tenses and POV. this is just for me, for fun.

“And then we have the caterer to meet with tomorrow morning. No major decisions, just finalizing the menu and the seating arrangements. Then I was thinking I could take you to breakfast—just us, no kids—before heading for the florist? Jack is back now and he can handle the crew for a few hours, don’t you think?”

 

Sam tried to focus and listen to the words Pete was saying, words about the wedding— _their_ wedding—and plans for their future. Instead, the words ran in one ear and out the other, her attention on the dark silhouette cutting a sharp shadow on the lawn, moving towards the gazebo. The evening was setting in slowly like ink and water mixing on paper, creeping and spreading dark tentacles across the property. 

 

He’d disappeared from their lives for a confusing two weeks. In the short time that Jack O’Neill had entered her household, he’d left quite the mark on her family. Pushing away the memory of finding his note on the hallway table—a note written in messy, scrawling penmanship about overstaying his welcome and making room for the family Sam and her kiddos deserved with Pete Shanahan—she instead recalled the way her children had positively _moped_ without O’Neill greeting them with wiggling, tickling fingers and his special omelettes. One morning, in the early days of him leaving, the clang of pots and pans had roused Sam from her office, abandoningpaperwork and half-finished equations in favor of finding the source of the noise. 

 

She’d found all seven of her children crowded around the stove, bowls of half-whisked eggs and cheese littered the kitchen counter and fat pats of butter were smeared over hot, sizzling pans. Plates and plates of half-eaten omelettes were stacked on the kitchen table and in the sink.

 

Cam was huffing and throwing down another half-eaten forkful of omelette. “It’s not _right_ , Teal’c. I’m telling you—I have the mouth for it and it doesn’t taste the same as Jack’s.”

 

Her heart had clenched in her chest at the sound of the man’s name and the despair in her children’s voices as they argued about secret ingredients and shouldn’t they just _go see_ Jack and ask him how to make his omelettes and while they were there, couldn’t they just ask— _beg—_ him to come back home?

 

_Home._

 

And then, like he’d never been gone in the first place, he was back on her doorstep with dark aviators perched on his nose, salt and pepper hair ruffled in the breeze, and an Air Force-issued duffel slung on his shoulder. 

 

Before she could force her heart out of her stomach and up into her chest at the sight of him, he was shrugging, taking off his sunglasses and tucking them safely into his shirt pocket. She noticed he was careful to avoid her eyes. 

 

“George said you still needed a hand until the wedding with Shanahan, so…”

 

He trailed off and an uncomfortable silence fell between them. She twisted her ring once, twice, three times on her finger behind her back before pulling it loose and tucking it into the front pocket of her trousers. It felt wrong to wear Pete’s ring when Jack was standing there, looking so good and—

 

And then peals of laughter and squeals of joy thundered through the house as the Carter children realized Jack was _back._ Jack’s had lit up and he’d opened his arms wide, dropping his duffel to the ground, and engulfing as many of her children into his arms at once, laughing and listening intently as seven children babbled at him about the goings on in their lives since he’d been gone. 

 

She’d known then she’d made a mistake with Pete. 

 

There was only one man she wanted to ever see on her doorway; only one man whose ring she wanted to wear; only one man who she wanted in her home, her family, her bed, her heart. 

 

Pete’s hand on her shoulder jarred her from her musings and she startled, turning to face her fiancee. Pete, with his open, round face and hopeful, wavering grin. 

 

He knew just as she did. 

 

It was over. 

 

“I was asking if you wanted roses at the ceremony? I know they’re a cliche but—“

 

Her heart lurched at the word _cliche_ and her eyes darted down over the terrace and traced the disappearing shadow of Jack O’Neill’s shadow. She swallowed hard and steeled herself for what needed to be done. 

 

When she put her hand on Pete’s to stop him and her eyes met his, Pete was already smiling sadly and shaking his head. 

 

“Pete, I—“

 

“I know,” he said with a shrug, his own line of sight tracing where she’d previously been looking. “I think I’ve known for a while. You don’t love me.”

 

Sam, interrupted, protesting. “I do, Pete. I just don’t love you the way I _should.”_

 

She bit her lip, looking down, and for the second time that day, she twisted the sparkling, too big engagement ring from her finger and offered it up to the man who she once thought was the answer. Steady, stable Pete who made her happy enough and who could be a father to her children, if he wanted. 

 

It wasn’t until Jack O’Neill that she realized ‘happy enough’ just wasn’t good enough for her—or her children. 

 

Pete plucked the ring from her outstretched palm and sighed, pocketing the jewelry. “I loved you, Sam. But I knew the second I saw the two of you.” He gestured with a thumb over his shoulder towards the gazebo where Jack had disappeared. “I knew it was only a matter of time before it was over between us. You’ve never looked at me the way you look at him.”

 

Sam wanted to argue and insist that she was _sure_ she did, once. But it would be a lie and they both knew it. 

“I’m sorry, Pete,” she said, helplessly, not knowing what else to say. 

 

Pete shrugged and leaned forward, planting a chaste kiss to the curve of her cheek. “Well,” he said, pulling away, eyes twinkling. “I suppose I’ll get my things and be gone tonight. I can stay with a buddy until I fly back home.”

 

She struggled in the silence and just nodded, watching him take the half-step or two towards the open door, back inside the house. She tried not to roll her shoulders at the sudden absence of the weight on their shoulders. Decisions had been made, change was on the horizon. 

 

“And Sam?” 

 

Her head jerked up and her eyes met Pete’s. He was standing in the doorway, leaning against the doorjamb. “Yeah?”

 

“I hope you kick O’Neill’s sorry ass for leaving. And when you’re done kicking his ass, I hope you two are happy together.”

 

Heat suffused her cheeks, eyes widening at the brazen words of her ex-fiancee. Had they been that obvious that he was wishing her goodbye and farewell so quickly and expected her to run straight to another man’s arms? 

 

And then she felt the itch in her palms and the soles of her feet and the way she had to consciously fight the urge to flick her eyes over the railing of the top deck and try to catch a glimpse of well-worn jeans and hunched shoulders and the glint of dog tags in the moonlight. 

 

She _was_ eager to go to him. 

 

Sam offered Pete a small, subdued smile and nodded. 

 

“Goodbye, Pete.”

 

And then he was gone and her ring finger was bare and there was no reason at all that she shouldn’t run a hand through her hair and straighten her clothes and make her way to a certain flyboy waiting in the gazebo— _their_ gazebo. 

 

So she did. 


End file.
